Blind Heart
by BlueStarlightWriter
Summary: She met him in the Hollow Marshes - a Magister blinded to the world and left for the wilderness to claim. Only, the Godwoken has a different idea in mind. Showing the kindness of a healer, she hopes to change his perception of Sourcerers before it is too late. But how can she change him, when he only believes in the one and only Divine Order? Magister Loke x OC Godwoken Chpt. 1/2


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 **Blind Heart**

Chapter I/II

The term 'Magister' to Joselyn held the same negative connotations as it would have any other Sourcerer of the Joy. Her healing hands had murdered many. Her followers even more. Yet there was one instance where she did not, in fact fear a magister, but rather pitied the fool who found himself in the dreary depths of the Hollow Marshes. For he was one her bleeding heart actually cared for.

It was truly ironic, really. She was never one to turn down a being in need.

So when she found him a short journey from the sea, surrounded by his fellow contingents, she had to admit, it was a rather appalling scene to find. Each of his fellows lay half-buried in the soil, arrowhead in their crimson raiment with the feathers still quivering in the evening breeze, as if only just shot.

Once-living skeletons adorned the marshland like beads of carefully placed fossils speckling the mold. From the little pieces she gathered a small battle had claimed them. Though, only he stood among the dead. Which in itself was a peculiar oddity indeed.

For, unlike the others, his only injury seemed to be a gash across the front of his eyes, that he brandished the sun. He clutched the carriage wreck behind him with shaky gauntlets. The whole carriage groaned in protest, but even among that racket, he kept his ears attuned to the wilderness.

By a faint rustle of leaves, he jerked her way, shield braced heavily across him. "Who... who goes there?"

Joselyn paused in the thicker marsh with her chin jerked rather curiously. The way he hugged the shield to his breast, hiding his bloodied face. He was cowering behind it. She had to wonder if it was his only defense.

Not one to care for lies when she most certainly outnumbered him four to one, she merely spoke truth. "A Sourcerer from Fort Joy."

His entire body drew rigid, as if caught by a chill of death. Then, as swiftly as it came, it vanished, replaced by a hard military exterior. By his belt she heard the jangle of metal, yet only felt sorrow when he sidled the carriage rim and groped his way toward her.

He reached out, fingers wiggling just before she stepped out of his way. He groaned, meeting the floor with his knees.

"I promise you now, Magister. I'm no bother to trifle with."

"That... that doesn't matter. I... I can't let you go! It's my job. It's why I'm here."

"And I used to be a healer in Arx before your order took me prisoner, magister. That was my job. Now, I'm here. You can choose a different path."

The Magister sighed, crumbling into the grass. "Don't you understand? You're what the order loathe. I know, it's unjust. It isn't your fault. And a healer... Lucien's mercy, we once revered you but now... you could bring a Voidwoken on your head at any time. On my head."

A sudden surge of confidence rushed through him. He rose from the marsh once more, slightly unsteady yet still tall with his back held straight. He continued to reach for her, his shield clenched tightly to his breast, until he opened his eyes a fraction, winced and stumbled over a rock poking through the mud.

Amidst the laughter of her companions, Jocelyn could only scowl with pity. Gesturing for her followers to fall back and leave her some privacy, she took him by the shoulders and steadied him.

In an instant he clung to her forearm whilst attempting to gather his barings. His feet continued to stumble in the mud, so she bent to his height and rested with him. "Shh now. Shh."

Humming softly she gently coaxed his arms to lax. The Sourcerer took his cheeks in her hands and slowly begun to inch her fingers closer to the blood that streaked his face. He winced, and so did she.

"How bad is it?"

Her utterance was only a small; a weak gasp of breath that seemed to only drown his hope. "I'm sorry."

For a moment the magister completely stilled. She felt the anxiety wrack his armour, as if the emotions that warred within him fought for some form of release. Alone in the forest, guarding a carriage of supplies he probably had no loyalty to, whilst surrounded by grief for his lost companions, was more than enough to deal with. How he managed to attempt to subdue her was in itself strength.

"You must speak true," he said, after a long silence. "It'd be wasted breath hoping otherwise. I knew... I knew."

Held the way she was, even by a stranger, for some reason provided Joselyn with some comfort she secretly craved. She could never show weakness in front of her companions. She was their leader after all. For her to crumble would surely be the end to their union. Yet she never truly had a chance to mourn her old life, or find a semblance of comfort for fear of once again showing weakness.

It was a tragic thing, really. To find comfort in what should have been an enemy, yet the more of the Nameless Isle she explored, the more she begun to truly realise that her predicament was surely not just black and white, but a number of complex greys.

A tightness to her forearm brought her from her reverie. She noticed the scowl across the Magister's face before the rattle of chains. One shackle instantly clinked into place. The other hovered over her right wrist.

"Look," the Magister said, clearing his throat. In that moment she realised her mistake. "I need to guard this cart, but I need to protect people more. From you. From the Voidwoken. Cast a spell and this whole island will come undone. You understand, don't you?"

A whimper threatened to voice, so she swallowed it. Because, in reality, she did understand. Each day she understood. She knew the carnage and mayhem someone with her power brought. Had seen it so many times in the wounded she attempted to heal, only to bring their destruction through her source.

However, that did not mean she deserved whatever wickedness the Divine Order had thrust upon the other unwilling sourcerers. Like that Magister she was a living breathing human being. She deserved a fighting chance, just as he did.

Quietly biting her lips, the Sourcerer did something she knew would most likely cause his sword to pierce her chest. She used source. Her free hand drifted over his eyes, and having closed her own, she whispered an incantation that brought a stream of healing light to encompass him. Forcing him to still with her shackled hand, she drew further into herself and forced her source to channel into his wound until his eyes, now a bloodshot blue, gradually begun to part.

When her incantation came to an end she drooped against him, settling in his lap. Surrounded by the stench of iron and blood and sweat, she attempted to steady her breathing whilst uttering a quiet claim, "There are no Voidwoken here, and I'm afraid you will never fully recover your sight. I just hope the loss of pain is worth it. If not, then I am sorry."

The Magister blinked, and his blurry eyes drifted across the expanse of bog around them, though she feared by their frustrated scrunch that she had once again drained all his hope.

"You tried. That's more than anyone has done in this godforsaken bog. I just don't understand. Why help me? When I have to turn you in anyway-"

Jocelyn chuckled, though there truly was no mirth there. Just a bitter resentment. "I told you, Magister. I was a healer. I can't leave someone like you alone without at least trying to alleviate your pain. My bleeding heart would never let me."

A momentary silence passed between them, one full of caution and questions - questions neither could truly utter or complete. Once Jocelyn felt her strength return, she attempted to stand, only to be brought down to the marshland anew by the Magister throwing his head into her breast. He winced, then substituted her breast for her shoulder, clutching to her while tears sprung freely down his cheeks.

"This bleeding, rotting, godforsaken, infernal bog-" He cursed and slowly shook his head. "What's your name?"

"Jocelyn," she said. "My name is Jocelyn."

She felt him smile beneath her frayed tunic. "I'm Jace. Jace Loke. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"And, I suppose it is to meet you too, Jace Loke."

"Most Sourcerers I fear would've left me for dead."

"I'm not most Sourcerers."

"No, no you're not, are you?"

"And I suppose, I didn't want to leave you here alone. There's so few people out here. To have the Hollows claim another wouldn't rest so easily on my conscience."

"Nor mine, miss. Nor mine."

The Magister reached for his belt, where the last of the shackles dangled. Jocelyn stilled, knowing that her companions would not let her return to Fort Joy no matter what she said in the magister's defense. Only when she expected the clang of bound metal and final weight against her wrist, she found the opposite. A loss of weight. A loss of steel.

Jocelyn pulled her hands away and searched her wrists for the device.

The Magister allowed the shackles to clatter against the grass, and slowly, with her help, rose to a stand. He turned away from her to face the carriage he once arrived in. "Get out of here. We never met. No-one has to know."

"I-I'm sorry?"

Magister Loke turned to her and drew his sword. "Go! Go I say, before they find us and I have to take you in. I... I don't want to. Not if I don't have to. So please, please, leave me."

The Sourcerer found herself mute. A strange mesh of shock, intrigue and relief washed over her in an abundance that almost made her dizzy. Rubbing her wrists once more, she found her voice after a few heartbeats, finally answering him with a grateful smile. "Thank you. Thank you! I promise, I will not soon forget you."

When she turned to flee, knowing her time was short, she did not dare glance back, knowing merely leaving him to the wilds would weigh her conscience dreadfully. To actually put a face to that guilt would only make it worse. Yet she had so many more important matters to attend to, and knew that should she stay with the Magister until helped returned, she would never be free of the island.

However, on the wind she chanced his final farewell, and smiled.

Little did she know it would not be the last time fate had her meet Magister Jace Loke. Not until Divinity had been restored, and the world returned to a somewhat peaceful state.

~~o~~

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Author's Note

Just a quick one-shot fanfic to the strange Magister you find in the Hollow Marsh. I felt so bad for this character and thought that him being such a unknown npc, there wouldn't be many fanfictions about him. So, this is one part of two :)


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